No Sex in the Champagne Room
by jkane180
Summary: Rosalie's a stripper. Emmett's an undercover cop, busting strippers who take money for illegal activity in private rooms. Rosalie's not taking money but there's sex going on in the champagne room! Oneshot for the Forbidden Love Affair Contest. AU/AH LEMON


"**Forbidden Love Affair"**

**A Contest of Hidden Desires**

**Penname: jkane180**

**Title of One-Shot:**** No**** Sex in the Champagne Room**

**Pairing: Emmett & Rosalie**

**POV: Emmett**

**Rating: M or NC-17**

**Theme: Sex in the Champagne Room!**

**Word Count: 4,810**

**Summary or Description: Rosalie is a stripper. Emmett is an undercover cop, trying to bust strippers taking money for illegal activity in private rooms. Rosalie may not be taking his money but there is still too much sex going on in the champagne room!**

**This one-shot is being posted in participation with the above mentioned contest hosted by bemylullaby, goldentemptress, kyla713, miztrezboo, and Nostalgicmiss. Please see any of the aforementioned author's profiles for complete contest information, or see the C2 community 'Forbidden Love Affair, A Contest of Hidden Desires'.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight; it owns me.**

**A/N: I've taken a liberty or two with the letter of the law and how the police handle things. Please also excuse any inaccuracies about the inner workings of strip clubs.**

Being a cop in Vegas has to be one of the best jobs in the world. Sure I'd seen more than my fair share of fucked up things, been puked on more than most toilets, and didn't trust any woman I met not to turn out to be a prostitute. But then there were nights I got _paid_ to go see if I could get laid by a stripper in the back room of a club. And then I got to flash my badge, call in my buddies and close the whole place down.

I walked into _Twilight Gentleman's Club_ looking forward to a nice night at work. See some strippers, let 'em dance all up on me, flirt with 'em and try to get laid. And as soon as one of 'em made physical contact – the line that separates strippers from prostitutes – pull out my badge and have some _real_ fun.

The place was pretty packed for a Thursday night but I wandered as close as I could to the main stage and found a small table that had just been vacated about three rows back. I sat down and turned my attention to the stage. A pixie with short black hair was grinding against the pole and I thought again about how much I love my job. She wasn't my type but I didn't get paid to discriminate.

A waitress came by and cleared off the table. I ordered an orange juice with a wink to the server. Anyone else in the club would assume I was having a Screwdriver.

She came back with it fast and I paid her, watching the sprite on stage. Her song ended and she skipped off stage, gathering money out of her thong before she was even out of sight.

A voice came over the PA and announced the next dancer as Goldilocks and I nearly choked on my juice. Why did strippers have to use such ridiculous names?

My chuckles were just starting to fade when the music started and Lil' Wayne's "Mrs. Officer" came on, starting me up again.

The uniform on the statuesque blonde was nothing like my own or even that of the women on the force. It wasn't even remotely suited to my profession. But it was perfect for hers. Not that she had it on long.

Goldilocks had my attention – had me _at_ attention – from the moment I saw her. She was tall and thin but curvy in all the right places with pale skin that looked as soft as silk. Her golden hair was wavy and hung loose down to the middle of her back.

She was an angel.

At least, she _looked_ like an angel.

But the things she was doing up on stage, against that pole, were most definitely not the actions of an angel.

I was absolutely transfixed watching her dance and grind and sway and gyrate and dry-fuck the pole.

I would give up my left testicle to be that pole.

I had completely forgotten where I was and – worse than that – _why_ I was there.

It was just me and Goldilocks and that un-fucking-believably lucky pole.

She had her eyes on me the whole time. Then again, it was her job to make me feel that way.

She sauntered off stage and I was left there alone, staring at the spot where I'd last seen her.

A woman wearing a g-string and pasties sat down in the empty chair at my table with a smile.

"Hi handsome, I'm-"

"Goldilocks," I interrupted.

"No," she laughed.

"I want a private dance with Goldilocks," I told her, shoving a wad of cash in her hand.

With a smile she stood up. "Why don't you come with me and we'll get you set up for after her break?"

I stood quickly, prepared to follow this nearly naked stranger anywhere that would be closer to another nearly naked stranger.

As I followed her down the hall it occurred to me that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing for work. But could I really bust her? Could I even stop myself from screwing her to have time to _think_ about arresting her?

I missed a step and stumbled when the idea of not having to worry about answering either of those questions struck me. What if my angel turned me down?

She was _supposed_ to turn me down, of course, legally.

The stripper who wasn't Goldilocks led me into a small room with a small table with a booth on one side and a chair at the other. In the center of the table was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses.

I sat down in the chair and rushed her out of the room.

The more I thought about the possibility of my angel upholding the law the more anxious I became. I straightened my clothes out and checked my breath.

I'm not cocky – alright, maybe I'm cocky – but I'm a good-looking guy. I had better luck than all of the other guys in the station at getting the strippers to cross the line. Some would argue that it happened because I didn't _look_ like a cop but I knew that wasn't it. Or at least that wasn't _entirely_ it.

I waited for what felt like forever in that small room, trying to decide what outcome I should even hope for.

I heard her laugh outside the room a moment before she entered. How did I know it was her? Well, it came from right outside the door just before she opened it. But, more than that, I knew because it sounded like the kind of laugh that would come from an angel.

I stood, smiling at her when she entered the room. She still had on the navy blue g-string I'd last seen her in and had put back on the matching lacy bra. In her hand was a wad of cash.

"God, I was afraid I was going to have to go out there and find you." She was grinning at me as she approached.

My mouth opened and I wanted to say something but no words came out.

"Here." She handed me the wad of cash. "I can't take your money."

"Why?" I asked, dumbfounded.

She was still smiling as she pushed me back down into the chair and then threw one leg over me, sitting down straddling my lap. She leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Cause I want you to fuck me. And I can't take money for that."

She licked her way from my ear, down my neck and then back up my jaw.

I turned my face to meet her lips with mine. I put my hands on her back. Damn, she was so soft, her skin and her lips and her tongue.

She moved her hands and began unbuttoning my shirt. My hands moved lower and lower on her back till I cupped her ass, bare to my hands. I gave it a squeeze before sliding my hands around her hips and then moving my way up her stomach and ribs.

Just before I reached her breasts she stopped working on my buttons and reached behind her to undo her bra. She pulled it off without breaking our kiss. After throwing it on the ground she moved to finish my buttons.

I slid my hands the remaining distance and cupped her breasts in my hands. She moaned into my mouth as I massaged them. Her tits were a handful – and I've got big hands – but God-given.

She'd finished with my buttons and slid her hands along my bare chest, moving my shirt away with them. I shrugged my shoulders so my shirt fell off behind me.

"You have a perfect body," she murmured as she slid off of my lap, kissing her way down my body.

I laughed. "The angel says _I_ have a perfect body."

She stopped and looked up at me, her hands having just found the button on my jeans.

I stared into her eyes as she knelt there before me in nothing but her g-string, ready to take off my pants and screw me and felt… I don't know… something more than lust – though there was plenty of that too.

"Did you seriously just call me an angel?" she asked quietly.

I nodded.

She stared back at me for another minute before shaking her head with a laugh. "I'm no angel."

And then she turned her attention back to my pants. I stood up slightly after she had them unfastened and she slid them off. I sat back down in the chair and she immediately went to work sucking me.

Her sweet mouth around my cock was about the best thing I'd ever felt. She wasn't at it long before I knew I was going to explode. "Angel, I'm gonna come," I moaned.

She sucked harder and faster and brought me over the edge, swallowing it down. She moved her mouth off of me slowly and then stood up. "Angels don't swallow," she told me with a smile.

"I've met one who does," I argued, standing up with her. I hugged her to me, feeling her breasts against my bare torso and crashing my mouth into hers. I picked her up and set her down on the table.

I kiss/lick/sucked my way down her body, staying at her breasts for a while before moving lower. When I got to the thong she lifted her hips so I could pull it off. As she lowered back down and leaned back on her elbows, I moved her legs to rest on my shoulders. No teasing or torturing, I went straight to my angel's sweet spot and devoured her.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Baby. Honey, yes. Sweetie, that feels so good."

"Say my name," I growled against her.

"I don't _know_ your name, darlin'" she giggled.

Oh, right. "Emmett," I growled again.

"Get your tongue back inside me, _Emmett_," she ordered. I obeyed immediately.

"Oh god, Emmett!" she cried, nearing her climax.

She came and I lapped up her juices happily.

"Emmett, _you_ _are_ a god," she laughed.

I gave her one final lick and stood up. "And you're my angel." I grabbed her hips and slid her body off the edge of the table and into mine.

"I hope you fuck as well as you suck." She ground her hips into me, my cock rubbing along her slit.

"Angel, it only gets better," I promised. I pulled her against me again and again, rubbing along the outside of her cunt, growing harder and harder again.

When I was good to go again I moved away to get a condom out of my pants. After putting it on, I stepped back up to my angel's wet pussy, hanging on the edge of the table. Her knees were bent with only the heel of her foot on either side balanced on the table.

I put my hands on her feet and slid my hands up the outside of her legs, following them back down after the bend. I smiled at her, waited for her to smile back and then pressed myself gently against her opening.

I let out a long slow breath as I leisurely slid myself inside her.

"Oh, my God Emmett," she groaned.

I started thrusting in and out of her slowly, my hands gripping her where her thighs met her hips.

"More, Emmett," she whined. "Faster. Harder. Deeper. _More_, Emmett."

I gave my angel what she asked for.

"That!" I exclaimed when I was furthest inside of her, touching the very back of her with my cock. "Right there!" I cried, again on the "in" thrust. "That's heaven," I growled.

She was grunting and groaning and writhing beneath me and I knew she was gonna come again. I moved one hand to massage her clit, helping her over the edge.

Shit, she was beautiful when she lost control.

I kept going, in and out, and her orgasm dragged out.

"I wanna ride you, Emmett," she panted when she could speak again.

She sat up and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me deeply. Not breaking the kiss – or the rhythm of the pounding I was giving her – I grabbed her ass and picked her up. I kept shoving her up and down on my cock as I dropped to my knees. I laid her down on her back on the floor and thrust into her twice before rolling over and pulling her on top of me.

She sat up straight, her hands on my stomach as she found her own rhythm on top of me. Her tits were bouncing to the beat and her eyes slid closed as her head lolled around.

"Angel, the view is even better under you than it was on top of you."

She moved her head back to face me and opened her eyes. Her face grew serious and she started pounding onto me – pushing me into her harder and faster. She moved her hips around in small circles, rubbing me along all the walls inside her. It was too much – too good and I could feel my orgasm building.

I wanted her to come for me one more time before I finished. I reached up to grab her breasts, massaging them a little before pushing her backward. She moved her hands from my stomach and braced them behind herself, leaning back on to them.

One, two, three thrusts that way and she climaxed, screaming my name. She lost her rhythm in her pleasure so I grabbed her hips and kept her going, sliding myself in and out of her.

I gave in and let myself explode into her. "Angel," I croaked.

She curled back over and lowered herself down, lying on top of me, still holding me inside of her.

"Thank you, Emmett," she smiled at me before kissing me again, softly this time, without the passion and the urgency.

"No, Angel, thank _you_," I smiled back when she broke the kiss. She got up slowly, pulling off of me.

There was a sharp knock on the door and a woman's voice called out, "Goldy, finish fucking and get out there!"

I kept laying there on the floor and I watched her get dressed quickly.

She stared down at me. "I'm not a whore, Emmett," she said firmly.

I sat up quickly. "I didn't think for a second that you were, Angel," I told her honestly.

And then without another word, before I could say or do anything else, she left the room.

I got up and got dressed, still reminiscing over the unbelievableness of my angel.

It wasn't until I started picking up the money that had fallen to the floor in our haste that I realized how much I wanted to see her again and that I had no way to contact her – other than come back to the club – and didn't even know her real name.

Fuck me. Not only must she think I'm an incredible asshole but I'm also a complete moron.

And let's not even start on the fact that I was supposed to be working to bust strippers crossing the line into prostitution – which, while we're mentioning it, my angel had _technically_ not done.

So I left the club feeling like the world's biggest jackass.

I kept a blank face when I checked in at the station the next night for work – having not slept a wink, kept up by thoughts of a stripper. No, I hadn't had any luck the night before, I informed the chief.

"Emmett must be losing it!" Jasper had joked.

He had no fucking idea. I wasn't losing it. It was already gone. It, my sanity, my ability to do my job well, ownership to my own cock, and possibly my fucking heart. All gone.

Given to a stripper called Goldilocks who looked – and screwed – like an angel.

Angel, my ass. She was right. She was no angel. She was a demon. A succubus.

I would give her anything she asked for if she'd only let me see her again.

So I walked down the strip, headed back to _Twilight_ with my tail – and my dick – between my legs, hoping and praying that she'd still speak to me.

No woman had ever had this effect on me before. My head said that I should hate this feeling, fight it. But I was only too happy to sell my soul for more time with my angel.

I scanned the room for her as soon as I walked in. When I didn't see her I didn't really know what I should do. I hadn't made a plan beyond coming here and talking to her. How do I get her alone to talk to me if I can't find her?

I decided to go with the same approach I'd taken last time. Only instead of waiting for some other stripper to approach me I walked straight to the hallway that led to the private rooms.

"Hey, you're Goldy's golden boy aren't you?" someone asked as I waited at the end of the hallway, not sure – again – what to do next.

"I hope so," I smiled. "I wanna see her again."

I pulled out a fistful of cash – the same one she'd returned to me last night – and handed it to her.

With a smile she led me down the hall. "It's Goldy's job, not mine, to tell this guy that what happened was a one-time thing," she mumbled under her breath.

No. I wanted to shout it at her but she'd obviously not meant for me to hear her. But there was _no way_ I was letting that be true.

She left me alone in another room that looked almost exactly like the one I'd been in the night before.

I waited impatiently but it didn't take long before the door opened again and my angel walked through.

In my memory she'd been perfect but the reality was even better than my memory.

I laughed when I took in the full picture of her – laughed because I was downright giddy to be looking at her again and because of what she was wearing.

My angel was dressed as a devil.

"Yea, I know," she laughed with me. "I don't pick the outfits."

I closed the distance between us as our laughter faded and wrapped my arms around her.

"I'm on in a few minutes. Don't mess me up," she warned but she was running her hands through my hair.

"After?" I asked hopefully.

She sighed. "Yes, but I'm not taking any money from you again, Emmett."

She remembered my name! I kissed her gently, not wanting to mess up her lipstick.

"I'll see you out there?" she asked and I thought I heard hope in her voice.

"Angel, I wouldn't miss it for the world," I promised.

She gave me another quick kiss and then left.

I followed a moment later and went to find a table as close to the front as I could.

Friday night was much busier and I couldn't find anything open. I was about to give up when I spotted a pair of drunk women giggling at a table for four right near the stage.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" I flirted. These girls might be batting for the other team but judging from their giggles I was betting they'd take me up on it.

They both looked up at me then at each other and giggled.

"What the hell?" the blonde said when she got herself together again.

I smiled and sat down with them. "Thanks."

The girls – Jessica and Lauren – and I made chit chat for a few minutes while there was no one on stage. When they announced my angel coming on, I tuned them out and had my attention on the stage.

Goldilocks was as captivating as she'd been the night before – probably more so. I was hard the whole time and could hardly wait to get back in that private room with her. She kept her eyes on me as much as she could but didn't neglect her job as she danced around.

When the first guy stuffed money down her g-string I felt a tug of jealousy. And then she winked at me over his head. I laughed out loud. All that angel had to do was wink at me and I understood that the hand putting money near her ass was just a paycheck to her. I was more. I didn't know how much more but a guy can hope. And being _anything_ more was enough.

As soon as she was out of sight off stage I thanked Jessica and Lauren for letting me join them and headed back to my favorite place in the world.

She was waiting for me in the doorway of one of the rooms – still wearing only the g-string – and I ran the last few steps to get to her. She jumped on me when I reached her and as our mouths locked I stepped into the room, kicking it closed behind me.

We were all over each other and clothes were flying and we were naked in less time than I would have thought possible. I had her on her back on the floor and I was about to enter her when I remembered to put a condom on. My angel's not a whore but I doubt a pregnant stripper makes a lot of money.

"Fuck me, Emmett," she said urgently when I hesitated before entering her again.

I pushed just the tip of myself in her. "Angel, what's your name?"

"You can call me any-"

She quit talking when I backed out of her.

"Aww, fuck, Emmett. It's Rosalie, okay?"

"Okay, Rosalie, my angel," I beamed and then jammed myself into her hard and fast. My pace was slow and steady but hard, pushing into her completely each time. When her walls clenched down around me, my own release was squeezed from me. I pulled out of her slowly and lay down beside her on the floor.

"Emmett, we can't keep doing this," she said sadly. "I'll lose my job."

"Me too," I muttered without thinking.

Rosalie laughed, not believing me or thinking I was joking. "Only a cop could lose his job for sleeping with a stripper in the club." She paused to laugh again before adding, "Emmett the stripper-fucking cop."

I was frozen. Should I tell her the truth? Would she ever speak to me again if I did? But if I lied she'd find out eventually and probably stop speaking to me then.

"Holy shit," she whispered, standing up quickly and looking around for her clothes. I'd been silent too long and the truth had spoken for itself.

"Rosalie," I started without a clue as to what I should say next.

"I didn't take your money," she nearly shouted at me. "I'm not a prostitute!" She had her thong back on and was wrapping a robe I hadn't seen around herself.

"Rosalie," I tried again.

"You fucked me and that puts you in as much trouble as me and the club!"

"Rosalie!" I yelled it this time and grasped her upper arms firmly.

She looked at me with confusion in her eyes. Other things too – anger, lust, fear – but mostly confusion.

"Angel, I _am_ a cop but _this_" – I gestured between the two of us – "isn't about work for me any more than it is for you."

She looked relieved and for a second I thought I had her. Then she laughed and shrugged out of my grasp. "I'm no angel," she reminded as she walked out the door.

That night I had the presence of mind to leave _Twilight_ and find another club to bust. After a job well-done I went home to try and sleep. It took a long time with Rosalie swirling around in my head but eventually my body gave in and sleep took me.

I was more worried – and more determined – than ever as I headed for Rosalie's club the third night in a row. I knew that there was a _very_ large chance Rosalie would want nothing to do with me now that she knew I was a cop. But I _had_ to try. I had to make her see that we could be so much more than great sex in the champagne room. I don't know _how_ I was so sure we could be but I'd never been more certain of anything in my life.

I found a table in the front row and sat down. It would be crowded tonight but I'd arrived early. I ordered another orange juice when my server came around and watched the women on stage with very little interest. Part of me couldn't help but enjoy myself – I _am_ a man – despite my growing unease over the predicament I found myself in with my angel.

As the night wore on and the club grew more and more crowded it became harder and harder for me to just sit and wait. But I had to wait. Rosalie would know I was here sooner and later and the choice had to be hers this time. I had no doubt she'd come if I went up to the private rooms but I worried that all I would find there would be a lap dance from an angry angel.

When the PA announced Goldilocks as the next dancer I scooted to the edge of my seat. Whether she'd ever speak to me again or not, I'd always have this. Rosalie came out in a baseball uniform – can you really call it a uniform when it's hardly there? – and I was riveted. She saw me and I could tell that she tried to ignore me but she failed. She felt whatever was going on between us as strongly as I did.

As her dance ended I wanted desperately to head back to the hallway that led to my favorite set of rooms in the world but I fought it. I'd opened the door but Rosalie would have to walk through it this time.

I checked my watch more than twice a minute for the full thirteen minutes it took before Rosalie wandered through the club, obviously heading for me but trying to make it look like she wasn't in a hurry.

"Don't you want to join me in the champagne room tonight, Emmett?" she asked with a smile that made me want to take her in the middle of the crowded club.

"Angel, I've just been waiting for you to ask," I beamed as I stood up.

Rosalie led me to another identical room. I shut the door behind me and turned to face her, ready for anything.

"Emmett, I'm a stripper and you're an undercover cop. You can't keep coming here and banging me in the champagne room." Her hands were on her hips and she looked so serious. I wanted to kiss the pout off her face.

"Why not?" I asked instead, keeping myself together.

"We'll both lose our jobs."

I shook my head at her. "Don't care."

That made her laugh. "And if _I_ care?"

"Rosalie, if you cared, you wouldn't have brought me in here again."

With a shrug of her shoulders she admitted I was right and gave in.

_One Year Later_

Looking back, neither one of us can figure out why we went on that way for so long. We kept our affair a secret from everyone in our lives – everyone except most of Rosie's co-workers. We only saw each other in the champagne rooms of _Twilight Gentleman's Club_.

It took us a full six months before we figured out that we didn't have to both risk our jobs to be together. I think that on some level both of us really enjoyed the risk and the immoral indulgence.

After only a few days of sleeping together at my place or hers we were telling everyone we knew that we were together. The way everyone seemed to think it was taboo for a cop and a stripper to be dating pleased us both. The guys at the station were the most shocked but I never for a moment felt ashamed of what Rosalie did to pay the bills.

We spent another five months frustrated with the hassle of two apartments before we moved in together. Everyone thinks we sound like the start of a bad joke – _So a cop and a stripper are living together…_

I still go watch my angel dance at the club about once a week. And afterward we _always_ have sex in the champagne room.


End file.
